Final Strike

confusion overtakes you as the fog swallows the leaves above leaving wind soundless when you boil the sea rain falls and yet you ask why as a child shocked by thunder hiding like a rat gnashing your teeth on wood and wheat seeking a retreat death comes for your kin like anthills in a concrete mold boasting of great strength yet in this moment eternal the fear and confusion ever so swallows and remains is the sound of fear in statues of your kin mouth agape as if to ask "why?" when patience is rewarded with pain and violence is rewarded with silence what do you have left? open your mouth and ask me again. try not to swallow your tongue.